


So Long, Lonesome

by greerian



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Crush, Bible verses, Coming Out, Crushes, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Laughter, Love Poems, M/M, May/December Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7151168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greerian/pseuds/greerian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternatively titled, "How Not to Seduce Your Crush with the Bible." </p><p> <i>“Yes, Sister Hatimbi, well.” Elder McKinley clears his throat. “Is your father at home?”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	So Long, Lonesome

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song by the same name by Explosions in the Sky.
> 
> While it is usually assumed the Nabulungi is the same age as the elders, it isn't explicitly stated so in canon, so I took some liberties and made her 17. Mafala was 17 as well when she was born, which puts him at 34 at the time of this story.  
> Elder McKinley is 19.

“Ah, Sister Hatimbi. _Hello_.”

Naba blinks. It is Elder McKinley, hovering in the doorway of her home. He looks… nervous.

“Hello,” she replies, pulling the door shut behind her. No need to let scorpions into the hut.

“Yes, Sister Hatimbi, well.” Elder McKinley clears his throat. “Is your father at home?”

“Baba?” Naba echoes. That’s… weird. “No, he… he is working today.”

“Oh.” Elder McKinley’s face falls for just a second, before he slaps that Mormon smile back on and glances back at Elder Poptarts, who is leaning against the hut next door. Elder Poptarts does not look happy to be here. “Well, that- that’s _fine_.”

“Elder McKinley,” Naba starts, but… he seems really nervous. “Would you like me to tell him you came by?”

“Goodness _no_. I,” he clears his throat again. “It was just some, um, church business. Nothing to worry about. Or mention. It’s just fine, Sister Hatimbi.”

“My name is Nabulungi,” she corrects sweetly. “And… are you sure?” She’s starting to wonder if maybe her Baba has done something wrong that Elder McKinley doesn’t want to deal with. He does seem almost frightened, and she wants to comfort him. Even though he’s looming over her. He really is tall. It’s actually rather funny to see, his scared, little-boy face on such a big body.

“Yes!” he says. “Yes, please, I… if you could _not_ , that would be _lovely_. I… I can bring it up later, if it’s still, um, _pertinent_.”

“All right…” she replies, more than a little dubious. But Elder Poptarts then chooses to clear his throat, obviously irritated.

“Yes, thank you,” Elder McKinley says. “I suppose I will see you at church on Sunday. Thank you, Sister- Nabulungi.” And then he’s turning his back and walking away, very, very quickly.

“Oh. Goodbye!” she calls after him. Elder Poptarts waves back, but Elder McKinley just keeps walking.

Huh.

* * *

 

“Elder McKinley was looking for you today,” Naba tells her father, that night over dinner.

Baba chuckles, and he does not pause in cutting into his chicken. “Which of the white boys is that?”

“The leader,” she replies. “You know, the tall one.”

Now he pauses. “The one with red hair?” he asks, looking up at her.

She nods.

His face creases in a frown. “He was the one who baptized me,” he says. “I wonder… what did he want?”

Naba shrugs. “He wouldn’t say,” she says, shoveling a spoonful of millet cake in her mouth. “He said ‘church business,’ but-”

“But everything is church business with them,” Baba says. He hums, sitting back in his chair. “I wonder what he wants.”

Silence falls over their little home. Naba shrugs again, and keeps eating. That must be the end of that. Baba will let this weird little visit today slide right off his-

“We will head over after dinner,” he announces. “To the mission house. You can see your Arnold, and I can talk to Elder McKinley.”

Naba stops. “We’re going to visit?”

Baba smiles. “That’s what I said, isn’t it? Now hurry up, eat. We want some light for our walk.”

Naba grins and starts to eat faster.

* * *

 

It’s not that she doesn’t get to see Arnold. She _does_. Just… not as Arnold. He is very often Prophet Cunningham, which means he has to work and cannot text with her or dance with her or- do much with her at all. And, it means Elder Price is with him. Elder Price doesn’t like her very much.

So this, going to visit, specifically to see ‘her Arnold’, is… fun. Even though Baba may be in trouble. But, he probably isn’t. His baptism was a while ago, and he is a good man, even if he is not like the Mormon boys. What could he be in trouble for?

The walk is nice, though. The sun is starting to set, and the weather is not too hot, and Baba is not too tired from his work. They can be happy and talk, and Naba even skips a little, on their way to the mission house. He laughs with her, too; he has been so much happier since Arnold came and taught them all his stories. It brings a smile to her face, even as they approach the door.

A firm knock makes the bustle inside go quiet, and then, a smiling Elder McKinley swings open the door.

“Oh!” he exclaims, and for a split second Naba thinks he may slam it closed again. He doesn’t. “Elder Hatimbi. What- oh, and _Sister_ Hatimbi, of course. What can I… or, are you here to see the prophet?”

Baba settles back on his heels. “My daughter told me you came by today.”

Elder McKinley’s face goes a little pale. “Did she?”

“Yes,” Baba says. “I wanted to know what you had to say.”

“What _I_ … well, sir, I can _assure_ you it isn’t anything of importance. I merely had a, a _message_ to share, and-”

“Nonsense!” Baba declares, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “If you came all the way out to my home you must have had something you really needed to say. Now, my daughter wants to see her white boy, so…”

“Oh, yes, sir,” Elder McKinley says, and he steps out of the doorway. The other elders all suddenly move, as if Naba wouldn’t be able to see they had been listening. But Arnold lights up when he sees her, and she goes straight to his side.

“Naba Jamba!” he cries, throwing his arms around her. “We just finished dinner, but do you wanna stay for Scripture Study? I think we’re gonna do some cool stuff tonight, maybe work on the details for the whole Joseph-Smith-baby-fucking thing.” He grins, obviously as delighted that she’s here as she is, and Naba can’t keep herself from pressing kisses to both his beautiful, chubby cheeks.

Elder Price scoffs, but at least one of the other boys ‘aww’s at them, so Naba squeezes in beside Arnold on the mission house sofa without a care. It is only then, with her face towards the front door, that she sees Baba and Elder McKinley are still talking.

“A message from the Lord is no small thing, Elder,” Baba is saying. “If you have one for me, I think I should probably hear it.” He grins, but Elder McKinley does not look happy at all.

“Well, sir, it’s… it’s sort of a, um- I never said it was _directly from the Lord_ , Elder.” Elder McKinley smiles as if he’s in pain. “And it’s a private message, anyhow, so I can’t share it right now.”

“Oh, hey, that’s okay,” Arnold says, casually (not casually) slinging an arm around Naba’s shoulders. She blushes and snuggles into him as he says “You can just go outside and tell him!”

“R- right,” Elder McKinley says, squaring his shoulders, “you are completely right, Elder Cunningham, this… that’s _exactly_ what I can do, and, and _yes_ , I will do that. Elder Hatimbi, if you’ll come with me?”

But Arnold stops them on their way out the door: “Rule 72!” he shouts.

Elder McKinley goes white again.

“Come on, Elder McKinley, you know the rules,” Arnold teases, and Elder Poptarts sighs from his armchair.

“It’s- I’m sorry, Elder Cunningham, but this is a _private_ , _personal_ message. Not... _really_ not something that should be overheard.”

“Don’t push me away now,” Poptarts mutters, making his way to his side. “You made me give up my seat.”

“Yeah, Elder McKinley, that’s… that’s kinda the rules,” Arnold says.

But poor Elder McKinley looks like he might be about to cry; like a child who has had his toy taken away. Naba feels sorry for him.

“Oh, but Arnold,” she says, loudly, “you wanted to show me that game, didn’t you? And, and you wouldn’t want Elder Poptarts to miss out, would you?”

“Oh yeah,” Arnold says. “Uh, what game?”

But Naba is already getting up and taking Elder Poptarts’ arm, bringing him back over to the open space of the living room. “You know, Arnold,” she says, looking over at the shelf. “...Mormon-opoly.”

A chorus of cheers sounds from the elders around them, and Naba sees Elder McKinley smile in relief as he takes Baba’s arm and leads him outside.

She has forgetten that Mormon-opoly was only a distraction by the time the two of them come back. Baba looks very confused, but Elder McKinley is beaming and blushing and looking very, very proud of himself.

And, well- Naba is very good at this game, so even if Elder McKinley’s message needs some translating, she is glad they came over tonight.

* * *

 

“Nabulungi!”

Naba sighs, mid-squeeze of Abigail-the-goat’s teat. Baba’s voice cuts clearly through the early morning air, and there’s no way for her to pretend she has not heard him. “Yes, Baba?”

“Come here, please!”

Naba purses her lips, and looks over to where Abigail’s babies are straining at their ties to the fence. They are supposed to be weaned, which is why she’s milking, but leaving Abigail dripping with her babies watching while she stops to talk to Baba is cruel. With another dramatically large sigh, Naba heaves up the milk bucket and wobbles over to where the kids are pathetically bleating.

“Shut your mouths,” she tells them, struggling with the ropes one-handed. “Your tummies will be full soon enough.” Finally, she manages to untie the knot, and the triplets go running.

At least Abigail was almost empty, anyway. The heavy bucket is testament to that as Naba heads inside and swings it up onto the table with a grunt.

“Yes, Baba?” she repeats, moving to grab the milk jars sitting in the darkest, coolest corner.

“Nabulungi,” Baba says. He is frowning down at his worn-out copy of the Old Testament, with his Book of Mormon in one hand and his Book of Arnold in the other. “I think Elder McKinley wants to court you.”

Naba almost drops her jar.

“Why the fuck would he want to do that?” she asks, clutching the clay vessel to her chest protectively. “Doesn’t he know that Arnold and I are… something?”

“Yes, yes, I am sure he does; the whole village knows. But, I can’t see any other meaning in this message he gave me.” His frown grows darker, and Naba abandons her milk to see what he’s glowering at.

“He told me about these songs of Solomon,” Baba says, “and they’re only in this book-” he gestures to his Old Testament “-not anything Mormon. I did not want to read it, but he insisted.”

It is Naba’s turn to frown; her father doesn’t do things he doesn’t want to, no matter who tells him or how much they ‘insist.’

“He said it was very important that I read these chapters and come discuss them with him. But, Nabulungi… does he even like women?”

As confused as she is, Naba laughs at that. “I have been wondering,” she acknowledges. “Are you sure he’s trying to court me, Baba? Does he even know how?”

Baba shrugs. “These verses sound like love poems to me. And why else would he ask me to read them, if not to pass them on to you?”

“...I don’t know,” she answers. “But… courting me?”

Now, Baba looks up. With a grin slowly spreading across his face, he puts his other two books aside, holds up one finger, and begins to read.

“‘Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.’ This is the young woman. ‘I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.’ And now, the young man: ‘I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots. Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold. We will make thee borders of gold with studs of silver.’

“And now, the woman again: ‘While the king sitteth at his table, my spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof. A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts. My beloved is unto me as a cluster of camphire in the vineyards of Engedi.’

“The young man: ‘Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes.’

“And the young woman again: ‘Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant: also our bed is green.’ And that is only the first chapter!”

Baba laughs, but Nabulungi’s face has only only gotten more and more screwed up in disgust and confusion, wrinkling her nose until her father tells her she looks like an ape.

She can’t help it, though. Elder McKinley is a nice man, and a good Mormon, but for him to be thinking of her in such a way makes her skin crawl. She likes _Arnold_ , and if Arnold were to send her such a message, even if it was through her father, she would… she would laugh, most likely, but then she would thank him, too. It would be very sweet - and very daring - for him, and if he were the one to send it… She would feel very different.

But it is not him; it is Elder McKinley. And he sent her these verses through Baba.

“I can tell by your face you would like to say ‘no,’” Baba says.

Nabulungi nods emphatically.

Baba laughs again and sets his book aside. “After the service on Sunday, we shall tell him you refuse. How about that?”

“That is perfect, Baba,” she replies.

After church on Sunday, she will make sure Elder McKinley knows that he is the wrong elder for her. But, gently. He was so nervous before. She’ll do her best to not be hurtful.

* * *

 

After church on Sunday, Nabulungi tries to slip away from her father to go catch Elder McKinley before he heads back to the mission house. But, when she whispers to him what she is about to do, he abruptly ends his conversation with Sister Kalimba and starts to lead the way towards where Elder McKinley’s red hair shines like a beacon in the sun.

“Baba,” she whispers, “what are you doing?”

“Going with you,” he replies. He does not look down at her as he moves through the crowd, and it is hard to see his face.

“Why?” she hisses. “Baba, I can do this myself. It is only telling him I am not interested.”

“Nabulungi, he made it my business when he sent you those verses through me. I do not think he is going to be willing to listen to you alone.”

“Baba!”

But they are coming up on Elder McKinley now, and the moment he sees them his hands tighten around his Book of Arnold and he turns to face them with an anxious smile.

Now Naba can see her Baba’s face; he does not look as if he will be gentle. She winces.

“Oh, hello,” Elder McKinley says. “Elder, and, and _Sister_. Um. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes,” Baba says. “I have something to say to you.”

Elder McKinley goes very, very pale. “You do?” he asks. “So soon? I… I gave you those chapters only a few nights ago.”

“And I read them, as you told me,” Baba answers. He sounds angry now, though he wasn’t when he first read the chapters to her. And… he almost sounds hurt. Though Naba can’t imagine why. “Elder, Nabulungi and I talked about it and I think what you have done is very disrespectful.”

“...disrespectful,” Elder McKinley echoes, quietly. Very quietly.

“You can see that my daughter has been with your prophet since the time he first came. He has shown interest in her from the beginning, and she in him. Yet you think the best way to declare yourself to her is by sending a message from the Lord through _me_?” Baba shakes his head. “My Nabulungi has decided that she is not, and never will be, interested in any offer you have to make. And that is final.”

Elder McKinley’s face shoots from white to red in a matter of seconds.

“Oh my goodness gracious,” he says, holding a hand to his chest, “you almost just gave me a _heart attack_. I am _so_ sorry, Elder, but you have completely… I don’t know how I didn’t make myself _clear_ , but there has been a _huge_ misunderstanding!”

“A misunderstanding?” Naba asks, stepping closer.

“Yes, Sister, a- gosh, one _heck_ of a misunderstanding. I…” He laughs awkwardly. “I never meant to- _Of course_ you’re not interested in _me_ \- anyone with eyes can see the way you and Elder Cunningham hang off of each other - but I never meant in a _million years_ to imply that I… Goodness, Elder Hatimbi, I am so, so sorry that _that_ was how my- how the message was taken.”

Baba’s face lightens like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “No, Elder, _I_ am sorry that I took it that way. I am sure you can see where the mistake was made, however.”

Elder McKinley hesitates. “N- not _exactly_ , sir, I… I’m afraid I can’t.”

Now Naba decides it’s her turn to speak up. “You sent Baba love poetry,” she says. “Between a young woman and a young man. He thought you were trying to court me.”

“...I did, in fact, um, _request_ that your father read the songs of Solomon,” Elder McKinley says. He is stumbling over his words again; his eyes are downcast, and his face red. Why is he so nervous now, if he wasn’t trying to court her? “But I am afraid that trying to… to declare- or, to… to court you, Sister, was the _last_ thing on my mind.”

“What was the first?”

“I… beg pardon?”

“If courting me was the last thing on your mind,” Naba asks, patiently, “then why did you say that book had a message from the Lord for Baba?”

“...oh.” Elder McKinley clears his throat.

Baba slides an arm around her shoulders. “Yes, Elder McKinley,” he says. “My daughter and I both would like to know. I am not sure either of us could find a clear message in that. Besides a courtship.”

He chuckles, but Elder McKinley looks almost more frightened than he did when they first approached. Naba is starting to wonder why he’s so scared all the time. He has known Baba long enough to know that he is not scary, right?

“Well, Elder,” he says, “it’s- it was sort of a _private_ thing. Not exactly a good topic for…” He gestures to the lingering church crowd around them.

“Then let’s go somewhere private,” Baba responds. “Naba, go speak with Arnold.”

“But Baba-!”

“Nabulungi.”

“Sister Hatimbi.”  Elder McKinley’s tone is pained. “If you would. Please.”

Sulking, with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face, Nabulungi walks away.

* * *

 

She follows them, though, as they go back to behind the mission house. She is light-footed and quiet, and she does not make a sound as she watches them round the weathered corner of the house.

“This is very private,” Baba jokes. “I don’t think the church could hear us if we shouted.”

Elder McKinley doesn’t laugh. As Nabulungi peeks around the corner to see, he slips his Book of Arnold into his pocket and then back out again, twisting its binding until she swears she hears it snap.

“So,” Baba says, setting his hands on his hips. “What is this private reason you sent poetry to my daughter, hm?”

“It wasn’t- it was _never_ meant for your daughter,” Elder McKinley protests. “Sir.”

Baba frowns. “Elder,” he says slowly, “what other reason would you have for me to read those chapters? I know, I should not have addressed this in front of the members of the church. That was my mistake. I am sorry for bringing it up in front of my daughter, as well. Hearing a rejection must-”

“It wasn’t a rejection!” Elder McKinley snaps. “Elder Hatimbi, you don’t understand. I am _not_ interested in your daughter, and the last thing in the world I want is to court her! I asked you to read the poetry for- for another reason entirely.” His words taper off, and he blushes again. He looks like he wants to cry.

“What is that reason?” Baba asks, watching him.

“It’s- it’s not _important_ ,” Elder McKinley says. He starts to brush past Mafala, saying “Really, it’s nothing to _worry_ about-”

“It was not a message from Heavenly Father, was it?”

Elder McKinley stops, his back to Mafala. “...no.”

“It was a message from you.”

Even quieter: “...yes.”

“Why?” Baba is genuinely curious; Naba hasn’t heard that from him in a while. Even with Arnold, there is an edge to his questions. But this? This tone has no sharp edges or hidden blades. And that is strange. Come to think of it, Naba has heard a lot of strange tones from her father, recently.

Elder McKinley whips around. “I- I don’t know; does it really matter? It’s just- not _just_ the Bible; the Bible is a sacred book, of course, and I love it very much - but it is _required_ of Elders on their missions to review the scriptures; that doesn’t necessarily _include_ Song of Solomon but it _can_ , and, and maybe I found the chapters interesting and wanted to get _your_ insight, Elder.”

He claps his hands once, sharply. Baba is still.

“My insight, on scriptures you have read many times before?” he questions.

Elder McKinley’s face falls. “Elder, this _really_ does not matter! I can assure you, it was… it was a moment of foolishness on my part, and-”

“It was no moment,” Baba chides softly. “You came to my house and spoke with my daughter. That night, you spent half an hour showing me where in the Bible to look, and how to read this version you gave me.” He pats his vest, where his Bible is tucked into the lining. “Do you mean to say you, all of a sudden, decided that you wanted someone to read those chapters, spent a full day worrying about it, and then decided it was the work of a moment?”

It takes Elder McKinley a long time to reply. A fly buzzes around the two of them; there is the faint sound of the bustling crowd back at the church; Naba holds her breath in wait.

His voice shakes when he answers: “Not someone. I didn’t… I didn’t want _someone_ to read the chapters. I wanted… I _wanted_ -”

He turns.

“I wanted you,” he said. “They were meant for _you_ to read, not your daughter. I didn’t _mean_ the words for your daughter, I swear. I meant them for _you._ I… I didn’t think about the verses being between a man and a woman; I thought about them being about _love_ , and, honestly, that’s the only love poetry I could get my hands on here.

“And _that’s_ what I was trying to send; poetry. T- to you. Because I… I wanted you to… Because I couldn’t _say_ -

“Gosh, this is ridiculous.” Elder McKinley starts muttering, hiding his face in his hands. “I'm a _district leader_ for gosh’s sake, I am _responsible_ and _good under pressure_. I am _not_ a stupid little fifth grader with a _crush_ anymore, I-”

He stops. He sets his shoulders. He looks up at Mafala, and he says “I'm gay. And I sent a love poem to you. Because I want... something. With you.”

Baba doesn’t reply.

“I can’t promise to stay,” he adds, words tumbling from his mouth like water from a bucket. “I… I have my mission, and when it’s over, I’ll have to go home. I can’t- I don’t know, your neighbors might not… And you’re Nabulungi’s _father_ , I can’t even say if we’re compatible. Elder, I-”

“Elder McKinley,” Mafala says. He smiles, and he rests his hands on the wild-eyed elder’s arms. “If you want it, it can happen. So, say what you want, and see what I say in return. You will never know unless you ask.”

Elder McKinley jerks a nod. He takes a deep breath, and his eyes close. He is probably praying for strength. Baba chuckles lightly, and Elder McKinley’s pale cheeks flush even more.

“Elder Hatimbi,” he says. “Mafala. May… may I k- Oh, I don’t _know_ , I don’t think I can do this-”

“You may,” Baba says, and his smile is growing. “I have no problem with that.”

Elder McKinley’s eyes pop open, blue and vibrant and very surprised. “...I may?” he echoes. “Wait a minute, I didn’t even _say_ it. Are you sure you know what I-”

“Yes, Elder,” Baba says, laughing. “I know what you were trying to say. Yes, you may kiss me, if you like.”

“...oh,” Elder McKinley replies. And that is very soft; he sighs it, between barely parted lips.

Baba’s smile softens to tenderness - the look he wears now is one that Nabulungi has only seen directed towards herself, and, once, her Mama’s photograph - and his hands, still grasping Elder McKinley’s upper arms, start to slide up the white cloth of his shirt.

“Or,” he says, “I could kiss you.” His dark, strong hands brush the skin of Elder McKinley’s neck. “Since you… seem to be having trouble with your w-”

“Yes _please,_ ” Elder McKinley whispers. He is taller that her Baba; he looks down at him, just a few centimeters or so, but his eyes are full of wonder and awe. It does not seem like he is looking down.

Baba’s hands come up to Elder McKinley’s cheeks, still fiery red, and he stops. Naba watches as he looks over Elder McKinley’s face.

He smiles at what he sees, and then he hesitates no more. He leans in, and Elder McKinley leans down; their lips meet in something so sweet Nabulungi finds herself looking away.

“I... “ Elder McKinley whispers, a moment later. “That was my… that was my first time. I’m sorry if it-”

“Hush,” Baba says. “You were perfect.”

No more words come from either of them. Any that may have tried to follow on their brothers’ tails are absorbed by each other’s caress, and this time the kiss does not end so quickly.

They must be breathing through their noses, because every time they seem as if they will pull apart one of them dives back in, and soon there is no space between them to speak of. Elder McKinley’s hands are wrapped around her father’s body; her father’s hands are wrapped around Elder McKinley’s neck and buried in Elder McKinley’s hair. They kiss, again and again, somehow without parting. And Elder McKinley gives; he gives fiercely and warmly and so much that Baba must stand still to take it. A soft sound from him, though, and Elder McKinley gentles enough for him to give back. It is a beautiful, sacred thing Nabulungi is watching, and it does not occur to her that perhaps she should not have stayed to watch until Elder McKinley finally breaks the kiss; he breathes in. His blue eyes flutter open again with something in them raw and new and shaking, like a newborn calf, when he looks at her father. When she sees that, Nabulungi runs.

* * *

 

She does not ask where her father goes, when he is late from work. She does not ask why he must always stay late after services at Arnold’s church. She does not question why his face seldom goes without a smile anymore. And she certainly does not question when he tells her to run errands and “Have fun; take your time, Nabulungi. We are in no rush.” She does not want to end up seeing something… dirty.

She does, though, on accident. She is coming back from scripture studies again, and while her Baba did not say anything this time, she knows that he does not want her to come home after sunset; not since she is walking alone. It does not occur to her to knock; she is coming from the mission house, and she thought she saw everyone there.

But when she swings open the door, it is to see her father’s naked body on his bed by the far wall, unmistakably thrusting into the pale, sprawled body of a young man with red hair.

She squeaks and runs out, slamming the door behind her.

Their noises, which she realizes now she can hear, quiet in an instant. She leans against the side of her own house and lifts her hands to her face. Her cheeks are burning.

Nabulungi is no stranger to sex. It is a fun, and important, part of life in Uganda. She knows what it does and why it happens and how it is different for humans than for the goats she tends during the day. She knows that it feels good, and that, regardless of what the Bible and the missionaries who came before would say, it is as good for men together and women together as it is for men and women. But she has never seen her father doing it, with anyone. Somehow, she had not thought him capable. Or interested. But he was both in what she saw just now.

Another flush of heat swells in her cheeks.

“Nabulungi,” Baba says softly, closing the door as he leaves the house to join her. He has pulled on a pair of pants and a tunic, but they are rumpled. He is breathing harder than she is. She looks away. “Nabulungi, I did not mean for you to see.”

“It is fine, Baba,” she tells him, but he sighs.  
“No,” he answers. “It is not. You did not know I had… that I was with a…”

“A younger man?” she says. She giggles a little, and the tense lines of her father’s face start to relax. “Baba, I- When you told me Elder McKinley was courting me, and then, he _wasn’t_ , I had a feeling something like this would happen.”

“Did you now?” he asks, grinning. “Smart girl.” But his smile falls again, and he looks older than he usually does, with the golden sunlight falling across his face. “Nabulungi, do you… you are not angry with us, are you?”

She shakes her head slowly, looking out at the village instead of meeting his eyes. “I am not angry, Baba,” she says. “I think it is _weird_ , a little bit. He is only a few years older than I, and you are much older than him. Not that you are old.” She smiles. “But… it is strange, the two of you. You always hated the white boys, but now you are… what are you doing with him? Is it just fucking?”

“No,” Baba answers quietly. “Nabulungi, look at me.”

She does.

“I have not taken a lover since your mother passed away,” he tells her, meeting her eyes without hesitation. “You know that; I would have told you. I have not thought about remarrying, even though many people told me I should. But now, you are almost grown. You have your Arnold, and no matter what happens with him, you will be married soon and out of my household. I will never replace you - I do not want to - but…”

“But you want him,” she says. “You…” Her face twists as she searches for a word; the word Arnold likes to use for the two of them. “ _l_ _ike_ him.”

The lines curving in between his eyebrows relax, and the lines around his mouth deepen. “I do,” he says. “He is a good man, even though he is young. And, Nabulungi, he wants me, as well. You are too young to know how rare that is for a man of my age. From someone like him.”

“He would be an idiot not to,” she declares, tossing her hair. “You are wonderful, Baba.”

“Thank you,” he answers, wrapping an arm around her shoulders warmly. “And you are a wonderful daughter to me, Nabulungi. But… he fills a different place. Do you see?”

She nods. They both sigh, looking out at the village. Naba rests her head on her father’s shoulder, even though she knows she is making Elder McKinley wait inside.

“Are you careful with him?” she asks suddenly.

“Because of the AIDS?” he replies. “Yes. I would not take him otherwise.”

“Take him?” she echoes, a mischievous smile growing across her face. “Are you sure he shouldn’t take _you_ , Baba? After all, you are smaller.”

“Disrespectful girl!” her father says, grinning and slapping her arm as he pulls away. “How did I raise such a shameless daughter?”

She giggles, bringing a hand to her mouth.

“All right,” she says after a moment, leaning in to kiss his cheek and neatly straighten his tunic. “Go in and tell your lover to cover his pasty white ass before I come in. That’s not a sight any girl should see, shameless or not.”

Her Baba’s smile is grateful as he presses a kiss in return to the top of her head.

“I will,” he answers, without teasing for once; he goes back inside.

A soft hum of conversation arises on the other side of the wall; Elder McKinley’s voice is higher than Baba’s. But neither sound angry or upset (or ready to continue despite the fact that she is outside). In a few minutes, Baba comes back out, followed by a red-faced, but well-dressed, Elder McKinley.

“He cannot spend the night,” Baba tells her. He brandishes their old lantern, the only light they keep inside the house. “I am going to walk him back to the mission house. Do you wish to come?”

With a grin, and to Elder McKinley’s clear surprise, she nods. “I would love to come,” she says, looping her arm through her father’s. “Besides, I can see Arnold again.” What does it matter that she has already seen him twice today? It seems now is a time for lovers anyway.

* * *

 

Elder McKinley is walking with a limp.

“How hard on him _were_ you, Baba?” Nabulungi asks teasingly, and Elder McKinley’s face is obviously crimson, even in the fading light.

Baba throws back his head to laugh. “Not as hard as he would like,” he replies, and then the three of them are all laughing, though Elder McKinley only chuckles behind his hands.

“Yes, well,” he says, when they quiet down, “I… I don’t really have any excuses for myself. It’s not a church-sanctioned a-, um, _thing_ , your father and I have, but…” He starts to wring his hands.

Nabulungi realizes with a start that he is trying to explain himself. “Oh, no, Elder,” she says, shaking her head quickly, “do not worry! I don’t care what your church thinks about it, or what anyone thinks, truly. If you and Baba are happy - and it seems like you _are_ -” she winks up at him “-then I am happy as well.”

“...well,” he says, with a sigh. He is smiling, though, enough that she feels like she could come hug him, if she wishes.

She does. It stops the three of them in the middle of the path; Elder McKinley with surprise, Baba with a laugh and a fond smile.

“Though,” she says, squeezing the elder a little before letting go and starting off down the path again, “you might want to say something to Arnold.”

“Why- why on _earth_ would I want to do that?” Elder McKinley asks. He is blushing again.

“So you could sit next to Baba on Sundays,” she answers.

His face softens, and she thinks he is about to thank her when she adds, “And so he can tell the neighbors the two of you are all right. I don’t think you will be able to fuck quietly, and the walls of the hut are very thin.”

Darkness falls to the sound of Elder McKinley’s embarrassed stammering and her Baba’s delighted laughter.


End file.
